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Renesmee
|name= Renesmee |kanji= レネスミー |romaji= Renesumī |alias= Shadow-Stalker (影押しかけ, Kageoshikake) Non-Person (無人, Mujin) Reny (レニー, Renii) (Alexis) |status= |race= |birthdate= |birthplace= Sloth, Sin |gender= Female |age= 22 |blood type= O |education= |hair color= Licorice |eye color= Pantone |vision= Flawless |skin tone= Pale |height= 5'7 ft. |weight= 116 lbs. |medical concerns and ailments= |guild mark color= |guild mark location= |tattoos/unusual features= |affiliation= Dawn Horizon |previous affiliation= |partners= Aethon |previous partners= |occupation= Assassin |previous occupation= |team= |previous team= |base of operations= |sexuality= Complicated |marital status= |spouse= |allies= |enemies= |relatives= (Father) Esme (Mother) Jeanne Aquitaine (Cousin) |magic= Enchantment |curse= |abilities= |signature skill= |equipment= Darkheart (黒い心, Kuroikokoro; lit. "Spirit of Darkness") Oathkeeper (血盟, Ketsumei; lit. "Bloodpledge") |debut= |image gallery= }} Renesmee (レネスミー, Renesumī) is an assassin-for-hire currently operating in eastern . Born in the country of to a vampire mother, she was promptly abandoned by the latter before being taken in and raised by . Perhaps trained is a better word, however; the brutal, dehumanizing measures emphasized in order to cut all emotional ties would cause any love for the missing figure in her life to be turned into chilling, palpable hatred. It would peak when she finally found the time between missions to locate and then confront the woman in question, only to be crushed in combat, her mother's centuries of experience overcoming and dhampir's hatred. Left a maimed, gruesome mess, she would only be rescued from death by a mysterious good samaritan, one who disappeared as soon as they came. Nevertheless, the damage was done; her broken, near-death like state had been captured by guild members sent to tail her. Her removal from the band was effective immediately, the first of several assassinations beginning when she was still confined to a hospital bed. The guild's efforts would only grow in intensity as she renounced them as well before choosing to go on the warpath. Gifted with swords forged from her , she's known in the criminal underbelly as Shadow-Stalker (影押しかけ, Kageoshikake) as her body count increases with each assassin she kills, preparing for the day when she once again faces the one responsible for it all. It would be after one such mission that she encountered a particularly persistent lad. Following a fire fight and a life-flash, she'd agree to visit only after her mother drew her last breath. Alas, it would prove more complicated; the death of her mother was only a physical one. After tracking down DH and being led astray, she would fight once more, a nightcrawler queen on side, the spirit of the not so dearly departed on the other. Again, death's door almost opened, and for the second time in two months, Rene would need intervention, though this time it was surgery transfusion instead of the heavenly kind. She would eventually agree to a trial basis, staying on at DH for one month as she recovered before giving her final decision. As that deadline drew nearer, however, she would be requested for a new endeavor: bodyguard. Accompanying the two representatives of Dawn Horizon, she would be introduced to a much larger group: the Alliance. While friendly enough, it would ultimately be the after hours celebration which convinced her to "stay awhile". Or more specifically, a certain charmer did. Following hours of pouring out secrets to one another, Rene would find the inkling of an alternative to her current existence. Thus, it was made official: assassin and mage of DH. Appearance Personality Loner, driven, and seething; these are the three traits most often ascribed to Renesmee by the few who meet her. Loner becomes a catch-all term for deliberately anti-social behavior, for a gaze that chills people to the bone, and an expression that somehow seamlessly combines cold, detached prettiness with a murderous, destructive glance. She is one who seeks seclusion in every facet of her existence, with the exception of information on those she hunts; even then the conversation is clipped, concise; not a syllable wasted or added that isn't "necessary". Yet these loner tendencies also stand for a fractured state of mind; a young woman who is burdened with an all-consuming fear of being abandoned once more, used and discarded with not a care in the world. With her background in tow, this terror is well-founded; it leads to her incredibly low opinion of any one she meets, seeing them as nothing more than another chance at betrayal. Stemming from this is an especially great suspicion of charismatic individuals, seeing them as nothing more than a trap waiting to be sprung on her. Thus, it becomes imperative that she avoid interaction with them at every corner, not interested in being "sucked into their schemes", not when she has her own objectives to reach. This brings us to her driven, if one-track mind. She has two goals; to end her guild's existence and to annihilate the one who has broken her. Both come in a bid to claim if not reclaim herself, though she has not a clue what this "true self" will look like; if they are whole in body and mind, a mere improvement, or even worse than she imagined. Nevertheless, the deaths of the assassins and her mother are pursued with fervent dedication worthy of a religious zealot; indeed she's been called a fanatic by her archenemies on repeated occasions, something that appears to bother her little if at all since they meet their maker on the end of her blade. Despite these accusations, Rene is rather skilled at masking her most obvious traces of "drivenness" though it can still crop in more subtle ways. In some ways it's what sustains her, and is her sole companion beyond the blades bathed in the blood of her adversaries. Often bringing the question of what will keep her once she achieves these objectives; indeed, she's pondered giving into her oldest friend on her darkest days, thinking how nice it would be to finally fall into its grasp. Yet something seething, writhing, and incessant pulls her out of this sunken place each time: hatred. A burning, all-encompassing acrimony that is woven into every fiber of her being; that pulses through the grievous scars criss-crossing her upper body, a constant reminder of being shredded to ribbons, to vaguely seeing her intestines hanging out of her body as she lay immobile. It is a hatred of her mother, of vampires, of the assassins who used her, abused her, and now try to kill her. Most of all, it is hatred of herself; of the twisted, apathetic thing she's become. Too much a reminder of her mother, it is just as terrifying as the thought of being abandoned once more. Among the things she despises most is the need to feed; of not knowing if she can turn people as a half-vampire, and knowing that she will have to kill them if she can. As a result she's become heavily reliant on her two blades; forged from her soul and need to drink blood, they are her way of surviving from the day to day. Likewise, Rene takes pains to hide her fangs, making certain they are stowed away at all times. For her, it's essential that she looks as human as possible, including staying in the sun for extended periods; in an isolated manner of course. History Auspicious beginnings; a beautiful redhead and an ominous path. The story starts with the curiosity of one fanged individual, as her hunger was superseded by intrigue. Amused by the many stories and myths surrounding her own kind, she decided to test one: the hybrid child. She knew well the tales of male vampires and human women coupling under the cover of night; knew well the developments that followed and the incessant hostility for mother and child by those who discovered the secret. Malicious mobs burned homes and bloodied corpses were the typical response, the victims razed from the town’s memory in every way possible. Not once did she hear of a female vampire and a human man coupling though; for the longest time she had assumed such a feat was genetically impossible; but now she had room to doubt. Centuries of pondering allow such developments after all; thus, she went in search of someone to satisfy her curiosity. Her travels would lead her to the Kingdom of Pergrande; an extensive land in the northeastern reaches of Ishgar. There, she would integrate herself into a local court, finding a charming young count who would fit the bill. The count, for his part, was infatuated with the enigmatic red-haired woman and her playful yet elusive nature. Stolen moments and private conversations would lead to something more. Or at least, that’s what the duke thought. As long discussions turned into continued cohabitation, she grew distant, contemplative. She didn’t know why he kept giving her lavish gifts, though she was content to drain every single penny out of him for the sake of her own entertainment, finding his efforts to reconnect through the material hilarious. Nevertheless, matters would come to a head several nights later when the same count confronted her at their rendezvous location. From the fury in his figure to the unkempt hair and dark circles below his eyes, the redhead could tell it was time. As he began a one-sided shouting match, she focused, searching for the one sign she wanted; it arrived a subtle shift below her abdomen. As the duke moved closer, catching on to her steadfast ignoring of him, she struck, fangs clicking into place as they punctured his neck. She realized how hungry she was as she drove his frame into the ground, hearing gurgling noises as she crushed his windpipe. The woman could feel his hands reaching, seeking some kind of purchase while growing weaker by the second as she drank him dry; the burn that had been an inconvenience finally receded. Yet as she pulled back, taking the last bit of blood from his system, she could see a questioning “why?” appear in his glazing over eyes. “I was bored.” Something about the look of utter devastation in his expression as he died sent a thrill through her system; enough for her to pause and savor the instance. However, she had better things to do; with a snap of the fingers his corpse was ripped apart until not a trace remained. Once satisfied she stretched, placing an errant hand over her growing belly. “Well, that’s another myth debunked; those poor little creatures have such imaginations.” With a quiet whistle, she began walking, disappearing into the rising sun as while leaving the servants to discover the count’s disappearance in the morning. A small smile graced her expression at the thought of their horrified reaction, though she wondered why they resort to such despair. Were they paid to be that way? Or was it convenient? She shrugged, returning to her whistling even as the birds and plants shied away, her growing smile a warning she was out to play. The land of sin would be her new home for the day. Aborting Parenthood Little Renesmee would be welcomed into the world on one quiet, autumn afternoon. Perhaps welcomed is too strong a word; she simply entered it. Her mother would gaze upon the tiny figure with nothing but a look of amusement; it was small wonder that humans were so helpless if this infant was any indication. That it cried, crawled and giggled only furthered this amusement. Yet as the aiding midwife cooed and fussed over the newborn, Esme felt nothing; even this feeling of being entertained was superficial at best. She would stretch, bidding the midwife to come over before sucking her dry, letting the woman’s empty corpse hit the floor with a dull thud. The vampire pondering doing the same to the baby; yet a new bucket list item appeared on her radar as she prepared to snap its fragile neck: survival. A game developed within her mind, one that proved more tantalizing by the second. Taking the infant to the nearest city, she would proceed to dump in the middle of a busy street, blending into the crowd as she faded from sight. Left alone, the baby would wake, tears rolling down its cheeks as it cried over and over again. The chill of the fall night seeped into its tiny bones as two days passed, its existence unacknowledged by the public, unconcerned with the peril it faced. Or not. As the days wore on, a solitary shadow noticed the baby's presence, still clinging to life by some miracle. Such fortitude was something with acknowledging, especially at the most vulnerable time of a child's existence. For this reason, the child disappeared on one particularly chilling afternoon, with only a small blanket marking its former place. Though this too would be snatched by another passerby. Taken to a new building by the shadowy substance, it would be placed among other finds, left to grow and mature until ready for molding. This molding would take place as soon as the little girl could walk. Christened with the name Renesmee by the guild, she would be thoroughly submerged in the arts of an assassin. At first, matters seemed innocent enough; well, as innocent as training a small child to kill efficiently and inauspiciously can be. Initial measures focused on balance, speed, and climbing; learning to harness her inner magic to augment her physical capabilities. This was done to create muscle memory; an autopilot that allows her to do this things as if they're second nature, freeing her mind to assess situations as they develop. At times, these lessons were done with other young children collected; other times on her lonesome with an instructor. Once she met the standards of her instructor, weapons were placed in her small, yet capable hands. Daggers, knives, and other tools of this size were first to be used; their handheld nature making them perfect for a child to use. Renesmee would grow to relish these times, the blades providing a comfort absent elsewhere in the environment. Every time she had reached out to those close to her age, she received no response, only to be punished by whatever individual was her instructor later. Repeatedly she was told "there is no space for relationships in this trade," before being slapped. Not that this accomplished much; she continued to persist in secret, searching for a meaningful connection before a question occurred to her. Where were her parents? Rene realized she didn't know the answer. When finding the opportunity, she would begin asking this of her fellow trainees, forcing the issue by pulling them back even when they tried turning away. A few winced when she did this, holding their shoulders or looking somewhat skewed when stepped back. Even fewer answered; their tones holding the same confusion she felt. Did their shoulders always slope like that?? Frustrated, Rene would begin shaking them vigorously, hearing cracks and snaps before watching them back up anxiously, turning and running. Why were they scared of her? Why were there tears rolling down their cheeks? Rene found her single question led to only more questions, marked by disastrous interactions and careful beatdowns. Except for one. "Don't you know curiosity killed the cat?" a male voice said behind her. She turned, finding a young boy two years her senior smirking. "I just want to know...who are they? What do they look like? Why can't I remember them?" she responded tartly. "Well there's only one way to find out y-" he started before hearing sounds. The two scattered, though not before promising to talk later. Light Among the Dark Their meetings would occur infrequently, happening in different places at random; a sign of them internalizing their lessons. Lessons that had become far more brutal in conception. No longer were the underlings assigned to target practice with dummies or postings; instead, live individuals were used. Each child was instructed to hit specific parts of the body; learning weak points, how to incapacitate, and what were the quietest/quickest ways to kill. Failure to abide by such instructions meant becoming target practice yourself. Unfortunately, Rene would watch this happen on a few occasions, as fellow trainees with either too much of a conscience or too much fear refused, only to be strung up and turned into pincushion rendered unrecognizable. While others stifled their tears or smiled to themselves, Renee remained rooted to the ground in terror, even as a strange burn overwhelmed her throat. She swallowed hard, unknowingly mesmerized by steady drip drop of red liquid from the arrows. The girl would snap out of the haze following the bark of more orders. Predictably, she complained about these developments to the boy she met all those months ago, the two exchanging their angst before settling in as he began a story. Unlike her, he had vague recollections of his parents reinforced by happy memories. Giving him her undivided attention, Renesmee would listen to these stories over and over again, finding them fascinating. She often imagined her parents were like his; warm and supportive, with a tall, handsome, and doting father alongside a beautiful, bubbly, and wisecracking mother. A family. This vision sustained her as the days grew darker, filled with simulations meant to mimic real life situations. She would watch as the number of children dwindled, some victims of simulations, others live target practice, still others put down for "being too weak of mind or body". It made those moments with the boy all the more important; an increasingly brittle sanity weakening as her obsession with her parents turned more fanatical. It didn't make sense that they would leave her in this place...right? Parents weren't supposed to do that. Thus, he became one of two constants; the other being the increasingly uncomfortable burn in her throat. It felt like someone had stuck kerosene down there and set the oil ablaze. She often required distractions, the boy's memories or her imagination being her refuge. At the same time, she had managed to avoid having to kill anyone, whether it was in simulations or target practice. A small part of her mind the girl wondered why given death was the order of the day as an assassin to be. Not that she was complaining; even as her thoughts became less....cheery and uglier, she wasn't sure if she should be going further in this. Not that Rene was foolish enough to voice these thoughts aloud. Another random thought popped into the girl's head; how old was she? Everyone looked taller and bigger than before, so that had to count for somethin-a horn blared. Immediately, she saw, nay felt the movements of others to the central compound. What was going on? She had little time to contemplate before she too moved. Extinguished When they had all assembled, a voice filled the room. "Congratulations for making it this far..I'm surprised so many of you survived considering you're such a putrid, pathetic lot. Now, the final task is simple: be the last one standing. Feel free to use everything at your disposal...honor will only condemn you. Now run little assassins." With that it, cut off. And the screaming began. Then died. Children started disappearing one by one, blades flying, magic hissing, primal roars sounding. Rene couldn't concentrate with all the noise before this retreated as well. Her throat started burning again as she began moving, the sting of blade too close snapping her into focus as it whizzed by her cheek. The burn was worse this time; it felt like someone had stuck live embers down her throat, poured gas all over them, and set it ablaze. She skidded to a stop again, finally locating the boy standing over a corpse. "HEY!! What are you do-" his blade clashed against hers. A second later and her head would be rolling across the floor. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING? WE'RE FRI-" "Friends? Is that what you were about to say? Don't delude yourself, we aren't friends." his smirk was malicious as his slashes grew faster, clanging against her blade as she hurried to block. Not all of them were blockable though; the shooting pain in her shoulder attested to that, as well as the warm, sticky substance trailing down her waist. "But you told me stories about your parents!!" "And you're super gullible, didn't you ever think that it was too good to be true? So not only are you gullible but you're stupid too." Another slash, another bleeding mark. The burn in her throat reached an all time high when this happened. And her mouth felt all wrong too. "You don't even know my nam-" He then saw them, extending from the top and bottom of her mouth, deathly sharp. The boy hardened. "You're a monster, I'd never be friends with a brute like you. So feel free to die," he raised his blade, before bringing it crashing down on her. Only to hit air. "Where did sh-" he felt something bloom from the center of his chest, before it flew upwards, splitting him more and more. The boy turned his head around, bellowing as he looked for the culprit, only to find . Then he fell to the ground in two. Something died in her when he uttered all of those words, each a nail in the coffin till nothing could escape. Suffocated until emptiness remained. Something assaulted her nose; the room was saturated in it. Blood. A new thought occurred to her, represented in one word: hungry. Seeing the two halves lying in a pool of blood caused her nose to wrinkle. Such a waste. She disappeared, whisking to a couple of assassins-to-be duking it out. They never saw her. "Their mistake." She crushed each of their windpipes with three fingers before slamming them into the ground. It cracked as their bones snapped like twigs. Then she knelt, lifting one body up before sucking it dry. She did the same to the other, leaving two husks in her wake. Somehow, the burn only worsened. Rene disappeared once more, following the sights and sounds of her fellow trainees dying. Whether it was by her hand or someone else's didn't matter; they were all heading to the same place. She continued gorging herself with the cruor of every corpse she found or created, the now tantalizing scent of claret decreasing rapidly. The girl didn't understand why they didn't react to her presence until it was too late. Though she supposed it made things easier for her. It finally faded as the last thud sounded. With it went the burn, the girl patting her stuffed stomach as she finally found clarity of thought. What was she thinking about it again? Her parents? Or something else? The faintest smell of decay wafted across her nose. "Hmm?" she turned her head, following the scent with her eyes. Had the place always been this bright? And why was everyone so still. Then she saw it; bodies as far as the eye can see, some mauled or broken beyond recognition. The emptiness broke as she shrieked, the veil lifted from her eyes. "Looks like we have a survivor." Equipment Darkheart (,) & Oathkeeper (,): Abilities Dhampir Physiology: A key component of her existence lies in her hybrid nature. As the offspring of a vampire and a human, she gains particular attributes from each. From her vampire ancestry, Renesmee possesses superhuman strength, speed, and reflexes, able to end battles with various assassins on these alone. Moreover, she boasts incredible night vision and sight, picking out minute details as if her eyes were a shifting microscope. Coupled with retractable fangs and claws, she is thought to match giants in terms of raw Nevertheless, Rene suffers from the thirst that plagues her vampire kin, ultimately needing blood to survive and perform at peak strength. Otherwise, her abilities are considered 50-60% of what they could be. She also finds being out in the sun for extended periods of time uncomfortable, but can deal with. From her human side, she possesses the ability to eat food and subsist on the calories it provides, even though it ultimately functions as a stopgap measure. Regardless, it allows her to blend in with humans much easier than the average vampire. From her human side she also inherits a limited albeit extended lifespan, lacking the eternal youth and immortality of vamps. It's estimated that she will live around 200-300 years, with a staggered aging process to boot. Furthermore, Rene still has blood circulating through her system, making her vulnerable to vampires still. Superhuman Strength: Immense Stamina: Enhanced Speed: Ways of Combat Master Swordsman: Expert Weapons Specialist: Iaidō: Fūha-ryū (風波流, Wind and Waves Blade Style): *'Fūha-ryu: Kazaguruma' (風波流風車, lit. "Wind and Waves Blade-Style: Pinwheel"): Magic Pronounced Magic Power: Enchantment Enchantment: *'Deus Anima' (, lit. "God's Breath"): This appears to be the primary spell Rene knows as far as enchantments are concerned, learned after her trust was broken repeatedly. With it, she would create her constant companion and touchstone Aethon. From what was seen canonically, an object is required, be it a stick or in Aethon's case, a wood carving. This object serves as the grounding point, allowing the magic to take hold. Without the object in question, nothing would occur. Once the object has been enchanted, it becomes a clay, ready to be molded into what the user envisions in their imagination. Upon choosing, the spell activates, generating a fully autonomous, sentient organism. Said spell can also be used to modify an existing "Anima" providing them with a new form, or new abilities (for example, Rene imbuing Aethon with a human form). However, this spell is shown to require prodigious amounts of ethernano to bring to the product to fruition, but in enchanting the object and completing the transformation. After using it to create Aethon, Rene was rendered bedridden for about two days. The Veil (秘密裡, Himitsuri): An obscuring where there was once an unveiling. To hide that which was once seen. This is the veil. When active, she is nothing; no longer detectable by sight, smell, or the other senses. Tell-tale signs such as Killing Intent or magic signature are wiped away, leaving emptiness in their wake. More than invisible, she becomes intangible, an incorporeal entity that retains the ability to interact with objects and other individuals. This magic is the source of her epithet as the Non-Person (,), seen and heard by no one yet felt when its too late. What differentiates the magic from its counterpart, however, is how it can be used. More than an ability to hide the user, it can be projected outwards, extended to allies as a way of hiding their movements, placing them securely in the grasp of invisibility. As the origin, however, she retains the ability to know their location, allowing for seamless coordination and deathly efficient offensives, able to manufacture massacres in the most inconspicuous of places without a peep. This leads to the magic's second ability: nothingness. When projected outwards and shaped, it becomes a method of silencing. Applied to those recognized as enemies, the veil becomes a thief; robbing the target of all their senses in a clean swoop while blinking them out of sight. It's noted by Renesmee that when executed in this manner, the target doesn't know when they've died, left on a plane of nothingness for time immemorial. In a less sinister respect, this application functions as a useful immobilizer, allowing her to neutralize opponents that cannot be avoided through other means. Thus, the third component comes to play; the disrupter. Since the magic itself functions as a displacer, separating the user both physically, magically, existentially from detection, these effects can be mobilized to alter the environment to an extent. Namely, to cancel; when expelled or expanded outwards, the veil unsettles, stripping away magic, cutting through illusion and space-time constructs with shapes formed in her mind. As with other magic, she can apply the veil in bits and pieces, hiding an errant hand, corralling a falling vase before it smashes loudly against the floor, or protecting her thoughts from probing minds. A partial veiling if you will; as a magic that lies at the intersection of the physical, the mental, and the emotional, it draws from and can effect all three in regards to its user. And here lies its greatest weakness when utilized by Renesmee: emotions. When consumed by her writhing, looming acrimony for mother and , she loses hold of the veil; what helped her disappear disappears itself. As a magic that lies at the intersection, it requires a centering to be used properly. Powerful, negative emotions like wrath, anger, despair, and hatred upset this balance, stripping away the veil and exposing her to the world once more. How fast and how much the veil dissipates is dependent on the ferocity and suddenness of the emotion, however. Quotes *"I'm adept at dismissing things I don't like." *"Why? I hold onto the anger, the hate, to keep from crying. To keep from curling up into a little ball and weeping like a baby about how unfair the world is. Complaining why did my mother have to be a monster and my father dead..and a heaven above that seems more chilly than hell. It's counterproductive." Trivia *Appearance wise, she is based on Akame from Akame Ga Kill. Post-Esme, she draws her appearance from Oboro of Iron Saga. *Yes, her name is taken from a certain child of a certain Twilight couple.